


Familiarity

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Comfort/Angst, M/M, References to Abuse, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for a prompt found in the brojohn tag by <a href="http://cockiinmouth2yndrome.tumblr.com/">cockiinmouth2yndrome</a></p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>john runs away from home for some reason and hitchhikes and bro is the trucker dude that picks him up</p>
  <p>john keeps saying “just because you picked me up doesn’t mean i’m going to have sex with you”</p>
  <p>and bro is like “i don’t expect you to??? you’re like two years old omg”</p>
  <p>but john grows on him and bro grows on john and i don’t know that’s literally all i’ve got</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Just because you picked me up doesn't mean I'm going to have sex with you."

"What?"

Bro's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He looked down and to his right, where the kid he had just picked up sat. A buck-toothed boy, sixteen at best, whose glasses were held together with masking tape. Uneven, dark hair was wet and plastered to his scalp. It had been raining when Bro opened the door to the cab for the kid, but now it was downright pouring outside. Bro's eyes met his and the kid stared right back at Bro, his blue eyes wide and unwavering.

"I won't have sex with you just because you picked me up." He didn't look like he was accusing Bro of anything, more like he just wanted to get the facts straight.

"I didn't expect you to," Bro said, his attention returning to the street in front of him. He felt the kid's gaze on him for a minute longer. Eventually he turned away, pointing his face at the floor of the cab. There was silence after that. Bro took the opportunity to eye the kid over once more, taking in little details. The kid was thin, even for his age. Probably malnourished. It wouldn't be surprising if he had been on the road for a while. The only protection he had from the weather was a thin hooded jacket. He carried a small backpack with him, but Bro had a feeling it was probably empty.

"You got a name, kid?" His question was met with silence. Bro shifted in his seat. "You can call me Bro, if you like."

A smile spread across the kid's face. It looked unnatural on him. "You call yourself 'Bro'?"

"You makin' fun of me?"

"Yes."

"Big talk for a nameless guy."

The smile faded and the kid was silent again. Bro frowned.

"So am I gonna get a name from you or what?"

"Why did you offer me a ride?"

The kid was looking up at Bro again, his gaze boring into Bro, making him feel somehow vulnerable. It was the same discomfort he'd felt when he first noticed the kid twenty minutes ago as he was changing a flat tire; it was what had drawn his attention to the skinny boy with wet hair. There was something about his bony figure and ghostly complexion, something about the dark shadows across his skin that felt familiar to Bro. There was a sombreness there that drew Bro towards the boy; at the same time, it terrified him because he knew that darkness so well, recognizing it instantly.

"You remind me of someone," Bro answered.

"But I could be anyone, really," the kid said, "you don't know. I could have an axe in my bag. What would you do if I pulled an axe out of my bag and tried to murder you right now?"

"Are you going to try to murder me?"

"No, of course not."

"Then I have nothing to worry about."

"But if I was an axe murderer, isn't that exactly what I'd say?"

Bro lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "If you are an axe murderer, then so be it. I seriously doubt your scrawny ass could take me down, even equipped with an axe. But if you really wanna take me on, be my guest." The kid didn't reply; he only looked back down at his feet. There was a small quirk of his lips, just barely noticeable and it only lasted a moment, but Bro saw it. "So, what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"Whatever," the kid said, shrugging.

"You want me to just call you 'kid'?"

"Whatever."

Bro stared incredulously for a moment before turning back to face the road. "Will you at least tell me which direction you're headed?"

The kid bit at his lip nervously, and he looked almost scared for a moment, before speaking. "East."

"Lucky," Bro said. "So am I. How far east?"

He shrugged again. "However far you'll take me."

"You got any money to take care of yourself?"

The kid gripped on to his bag tightly, hugging it close to his chest before shaking his head.

"How long's it been since you last ate?" Bro paused to wait for the shrug he knew was coming. "Do you even have an idea of where you'll sleep tonight?" Another shrug. "Some vagabond you are."

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was going to be judged. I would have brought my hobo stick with the little handkerchief attached to the end if I had known." The kid propped an elbow against the door and rested his chin in his hand, staring out the window. "Why do you care so much if I don't have every detail planned out?"

"You're a homeless child. Isn't that enough to warrant a little bit of concern from a stranger?"

"I'm not a child."

Bro sighed. "Fine, teenager, whatever. But I picked you up, so obviously I do in fact care at least a smidgen. Isn't that enough to prove that I give a shit?"

"I knew you'd pick me up, you know," the kid said, looking back at Bro. "As soon as I saw you, I knew."

"You did, huh? What made you assume I'd be so generous?"

The kid turned back towards the window, watching the rain pound down against the window. "I just knew."

Bro squeezed the steering wheel a few times as he thought to himself. "What would you say if I offered to buy you a burger?"

"I don't need your charity," the kid said sharply, his arm dropping as he turned to face Bro.

"You think so? Because I think I literally picked you up on the side of the road."

The kid glared at the road in front of them. "That wasn't a no."

Bro smirked. "I hadn't offered."

The kid turned his glare to Bro briefly until their gazes met. Then his eyes softened and he turned away.

"Hey, kid," Bro said. The kid looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "Can I buy you a burger?"

The kid shifted his feet and looked down at the floor. "Alright."


	2. Chapter 2

The way this kid scarfed down burgers had Bro snorting with laughter, despite the growing concern nagging at the back of his mind. Once they'd entered the closest town, they had gone through the drive-thru of some greasy fast food establishment and were now splitting half a dozen burgers. Bro was trying to gather more intel as he pushed burgers towards the kid, who was having a hard time refusing free food. The kid was proving to be incredibly tight-lipped and had a gift at avoiding answering any questions.

"You won't tell me your name." Bro said. "I get that you're trying to keep a low profile, so that's fine. But will you tell me anything else about yourself? Like what you were doing on the side of the road in the middle of the freeway?"

The kid bit slowly at a burger, his eyes darting back and forth between Bro and the dashboard anxiously. "What are you doing out here, on the freeway, all alone?"

Bro pulled his shades off and stared at the kid. "Are you gonna play that game every time I ask you something?"

"I mean it, I wanna know!" The kid said, his eyes growing wide.

"Alright, Alright." Bro set his half-eaten burger down and watched the kid's eyes graze over it for a split-second. He waved a hand from the front of the cab to the back. "It's my job, obviously."

"Is this what you've always done?"

"No, there's been other stuff."

"Like what?"

He eyed the kid over. "I was an entrepreneur for awhile. A long time, actually."

"What inspired the change in careers?"

Bro fidgeted in his seat. He pulled his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. "I needed a change of pace, that's all."

The kid leaned forward, his hand pressing into the worn leather upholstery. A burger sat in his lap, forgotten. "Did -- did something happen? To make you want to leave?"

Bro's stomach churned as memories he had worked so hard to repress pushed their way to the front of his mind. He dropped the cap back on his head and pushed his shades up the bridge of his nose. "I answered all of your questions, so how 'bout you answer at least one of mine?"

The kid sat back, his gaze returning to the burger in his lap. "What do you want to know?"

"Your name, for one, but we've already been down this road, so I'll skip that question. How about your age, instead?"

"Seventeen."

"Are you homeless? Hitchhiking across the country? Get left behind on a family vacation?" The kid didn't answer; he only stared down at his burger. "Run away from home?" The silence was accentuated with a flick of the kid's eyes towards Bro. He bit down on his lip and his eyes moved again, away from Bro. "Ah. How long since you left?"

"Six months."

"What made you leave?" The kid fidgeted in his seat and Bro waved a hand in the air. "Alright, I didn't answer that one, either, so you're exempt."

"I was going to wait until I was eighteen," the kid said, his words coming out in a blur as if he was afraid they would disappear if he didn't say them quick enough, "but I couldn't. I couldn't take it anymore."

"I understand."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Bro said, pushing the last burger towards John. "I couldn't wait 'til I was eighteen to leave home either."

John's head was bowed down. He looked up at Bro from beneath his still-damp fringe. "Really?"

"I couldn't even wait till I was seventeen."

"Oh." The kid looked back down as he picked up a burger. It was silent after that as they finished eating. When Bro had taken his last bite, he turned back towards the wheel and put the key in the ignition.

"There's another rest stop in fifteen miles," Bro said. "I usually stop there to nap for a few hours. I can drop you off in the town afer that if you want."

"Um, ok."

"Or," Bro continued, turning the key and starting the ignition, "I could take you a little farther than that."

"...You could?"

"I could. If," Bro said, resting his arm against the wheel and turning towards the kid, "you told me your name."

The kid gnawed at his bottom lip and turned to face the window.

"C'mon, I fed you and sheltered you from the rain and you won't even tell me your name?"

"John." He turned to look at Bro, but Bro barely held his gaze before it wandered away again. "My name's John."

"Nice to meet you, John." Bro said. He turned back towards the road and drove them out of the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

Bro was clenching and unclenching his fists against the steering wheel, occasionally peering in the rear-view mirror to look back at John. He was asleep in the small "bed" behind the front seat. When Bro suggested that he take a nap back there, John had peered in the back, question in his eyes, and Bro chuckled as he held his hands up and promised not to take advantage of him. John's only response was to frown and remark that that wasn't what he was worried about. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep on something so uncomfortable-looking. Bro's instinct was to tell him he was awfully spoiled for a homeless kid, but he bit his tongue.

"You could be a little more grateful," Bro had said.

"I told you, I don't need your charity," John had snapped back. 

His expression had been bitter enough to match his tone, but it softened once he looked at Bro. He couldn't hold angry expressions for very long, although his face had a sort of dark look about it all on its own. It didn't take much convincing to get the kid -- _John_ , to get some sleep back there, though, and when he finally did curl up in the back, he was out fast and hard. Bro had snoozed for a few hours at the rest stop he'd mentioned before, but that was hours ago. Numerous rest stops had come and gone since then, and John was still silent in the back. There were a few times Bro wondered if maybe the kid had died back there, but every so often he'd hear a soft sigh or a murmur and he was assured that John was at least still breathing.

It was sometime after midnight but before daybreak when Bro left that first rest stop, and John was still sleeping by the late afternoon, and continued sleeping into the evening. It was dark again when he finally woke up. John crawled into the front seat, rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

"How long was I out?" He asked.

"Long enough that we're in a different state," Bro said.

"It's dark out." John pressed his face against the window. "Did I sleep all day?"

"You did. I was worried that you'd died for a little while."

"Sorry, I guess I was more tired than I realized..."

"Nothin' to 'pologize for, kid," Bro said. "I'd rather you sleep in the back of my truck than on the side of the road."

"I wouldn't have been sleeping on the side of the road," John replied. "I would have found somewhere else to stay if you hadn't taken me in."

"You don't have any money. How would you have afforded a place to stay?"

"Money isn't the only way to pay for stuff."

"What does that -- oh." And then realization washed over him and his fingers flexed against the wheel. "I guess I should have seen that coming. I'm not exactly happy to hear that you've been down that road, but it'd be pretty fucking hypocritical of me to judge you for it."

"You don't care?"

"I care, I've made it pretty fucking clear that I care, alright?" Bro said, turning towards him. "But I'm not gonna get all preach-y on you. Have you been safe?"

"Always use a rubber when you're fucking a stranger," John said, a grim smirk across his face. It faded and Bro turned back to the road. He expected the conversation to dwindle after that, but John spoke up again.

"Do you want to know why I left home?"

"Bad home life, right?" Bro asked, glancing towards John. "You don't have to explain. I get it."

"I hit my dad. I hit him with a hammer."

Bro turned towards John. His fingers were gripping into the seat, his shoulders tense as he stared down at the floor. "Self-defense?" John managed a nod. Bro turned back to the road. "Then good for you."

"I don't even know if he's alive," John said. "I hit him, and he went down, and there was blood, so I grabbed a bag and ran."

"Would it be better if he was alive or dead?"

"Dead," John answered, his fists clenching into the seats. "Definitely dead."

"Then he's dead," Bro said.

"He isn't dead just because I want him to be, Bro. He could still be alive, and if he is then he's bound to be more mad at me than he's ever been, and if he finds me -- "

"He won't find you."

"How the hell would you know that?"

"He hasn't found you yet," Bro said. "You'll be eighteen soon, and then he can't touch you. You just have to wait it out a little longer, and soon he'll be as good as dead to you whether or not he's still breathing."

"He's already dead to me," John mumbled. After a few moments of silence, he turned around and rummaged around the back until he found his backpack and pulled it into the front seat with him, clinging it tightly against him. "Bro?"

"John."

"What are you running from?"

The grip Bro had on his steering wheel tightened.

"I told you mine."

"Yeah, and?" Bro turned to John. "This isn't a game of 'I'll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours'."

John looked up at him, a pained expression on his face. "I just -- I thought that you were like me! I thought we might have a similar reason for being where we are now. I thought maybe you could empathize with me, but I guess you don't owe me anything, so...sorry for asking..."

He looked away from the kid. That expression was so familiar, it hurt to look at. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "Some shit went down. I lost something important to me. And I couldn't stay where I was any longer. Too many bad memories in that place. It was my fault, though; you 'n I are dissimilar in that regard."

"What makes you think it was your fault?" John's expression had stayed the same. It felt like a punch to the gut, that look. He wished so badly that John would return to staring out the window.

"I could have prevented what I went through."

"But how do you _know_?"

"I just _do._ " It came out louder than he had intended, and his stomach clenched when John flinched at the volume. "Sorry," he mumbled, "but you don't know what I went through. You can't say whether or not it was my fault."

"...I'm sorry, you're right. I don't know what you went through."

"It's alright, John."

"But I still don't think it was your fault."

Bro's eyes narrowed and he turned to glare at John, but the kid's gaze had gone back to the world outside. Bro shook his head, giving his attention back to the pavement in front of him, and the cab was silent.


	4. Chapter 4

They went to a diner that night. John had been uncomfortable with the idea at first, but Bro made a point that he was going with or without John, so John offered to wait in the cab. Bro retaliated by tricking John into getting out of the cab and then locking the doors once they'd reached the diner. Annoyed, John finally obliged and went in with him.

He managed to make decent conversation with the kid, even managed to make him laugh at a joke. Well, it wasn't an intentional joke; the top of the salt shaker came off as Bro attempted to salt his eggs. John had let out a snort at the pile of salt atop Bro's plate.

Afterwards, they hit the road. They had been driving for a few hours when John began yawning again -- Bro couldn't believe he was yawning after all that time he'd spent sleeping -- so he offered the bed to John.

"Are you sure? Don't you want to use it?" John asked.

Bro shook his head. "No, I never really use it anyway. Besides, I can never sleep for more than a few hours at a time. You'll get more use out of it than I will."

John was nodding and yawning simultaneously as he crawled into the back. It wasn't long before Bro heard light snoring come from behind him. He kept going for another hour before he pulled into a rest stop, leaning against the window and closing his eyes. He slipped into the familiar void and relief washed over him, but then the dreams started, the dreams that prevented him from sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. It was the same as every other night: an over-crowded city, an empty apartment, a pair of cracked aviators, a bathroom floor covered in blood, the limp body of a blonde boy. The same memories that kept him moving from city to city, from state to state, constantly in motion, never stopping long enough to process anything because that would be too painful. The same memories that kept him alone, that made him push everyone he had ever known away, because this was what he needed, this loneliness; despite the fact that it was what hurt the most, this was the way it had to be, because he was too broken to be allowed near anyone else.

He felt consciousness grasping at him -- it felt too early, though. Something was tugging him back prematurely, something smooth against his cheek. He heard his name called out and his mind twitched with awareness, then his name was called again and he opened his eyes in a squint. He was still sitting up, his side pressed against the door, but now John was leaning over him, a hand cupping his cheek. It was pitch-black outside, the only lights coming from a few streetlamps around the rest stop. They illuminated half of John's face, casting shadows across it that looked like angled bruises. John's thumb glided across Bro's cheek, spreading a dampness across his face, and Bro felt himself tense beneath it.

"Do you always cry in your sleep?" John asked.

They were too close to each other. John was too close to him. "I don't cry," Bro said.

"Then why is your face wet?

Bro brought a hand up to feel the dampness on his cheeks. "I don't..."

"It's ok," John said. He scooted forward on his knees so that he was almost in Bro's lap. "It's ok," he said again. John raised his other arm and used both hands to cup Bro's face, leaning forward. All of the alarms in Bro's head went off; he knew he should move, avert this horrible mistake, but he was pinned between the window and the seat; there was nowhere for him to run. So John leaned in closer and then he was cold and soft and small, pressing against Bro's lips with his own. A flurry of emotions erupted inside of him, from the depths of his stomach all the way to the nape of his neck. It felt so good to be comforted, to be _touched_ by another person, after denying himself for so long, that his body was responding before his mind had even registered that those were John's lips pressing against his.

Bro's hand had tangled itself in that mess of hair, tugging lightly. He meant it as a warning but John took it as encouragement, pressing in closer, pushing the weight of his body against Bro's chest. Bro tugged again, harder this time, pulling John away from him. John let Bro pull him off and stared expressionless at him.

"I thought you said you weren't going to have sex with me just because I picked you up."

"That wasn't sex. It was kissing."

"John."

"I wasn't doing it just because you picked me up, either," John said. "I did it because...you're not alone."

Bro watched John for a moment before unclenching his fist, pulling it out of John's hair. "I am alone, John. That's the way it has to be."

"Bro," John said, leaning forward again, "you said I remind you of someone, right? Was it...was it someone you lost? Was that what made you leave Texas?" Bro squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed despite the dryness of his throat. He felt John pull the shades off of his face but couldn't do anything to stop him. "You remind me of someone too," John continued. "Someone I lost." There were hands wrapping around Bro's face again. "Dirk, look at me."

Bro opened his eyes in surprise. He didn't remember telling John his name.

"I'm not going to kiss you again, it just...hurts too much to be alone anymore," John said. "But we don't have to be alone anymore." John didn't wait for a response, he just leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Bro's shoulders, burrowing his face in the crook of Bro's neck. "I don't want you to be alone anymore."

He couldn't push John away, he just _couldn't_. John was right. He didn't want to be alone. It _hurt._

So he didn't think, he just clung. Clung so tightly to John that he was afraid that John might fall apart in his hands, and then clung tighter.

They fell asleep again in that position, grasping onto one another. Bro had never had such a peaceful night's sleep in his life.


	5. Chapter 5

When Bro woke up again, John was no longer in his lap; he wasn't even in the cab. It was early morning, and Bro felt all the stiffness that came with getting a full night's rest at a 90-degree angle. He got out of the cab to stretch and saw John walking towards him.

"Where were you?" Bro asked.

"I had to pee," John answered. He leaned against the truck, crushing the backpack between himself and the exterior of the cab. "And I wanted to stretch my legs."

Bro watched as John closed his eyes, pressing his head against the truck. He wondered if he should say something about the night before, but it didn't seem like John was concerned about it. Maybe it just was what it was. Maybe they didn't need to discuss it. He wasn't sure what he would have said about it anyway; all he knew was that he was grateful for John's company.

"It was pretty cramped in there, wasn't it?" Bro asked. John shrugged. "I was thinkin' maybe I'd get a motel room tonight, after I drop this load off."

John opened his eyes at that. "You don't have to do that because of me."

"I just miss sleeping in a bed," Bro said. "You can sleep in the cab if you want."

John pressed his hands against the cab, pushing himself off of it. "I want to sleep where you do," was all he said before slipping back into the cab.

Bro made a trip to the bathroom before following John into the truck. They spent miles in comfortable silence, the only noise in the truck the quiet hum of the radio, before Bro made a suggestion.

"I might be able to help you out, y'know," Bro said, "with your situation."

"What situation?"

"Your _homeless_ situation."

"...Oh."

"I know some people," Bro continued, "I could get you set up somewhere with a job and a place to crash if you don't mind cramped spaces and minimum wage. Most of my contacts are in Texas, so if you don't mind the heat --"

"No!" John's fists were clenched against the seat where he had slammed them down. It was the most reaction Bro had ever seen from the kid. "Sorry, I just..." He trailed off, his fists fanning out and returning to his lap.

"Don't like Texas?" John shook his head. "'Salright," Bro said. "Don't much care for the place myself."

"Why not?"

"Bad memories."

"Is that, um..." John was flexing his fingers in his lap, staring down at them. Bro shifted uncomfortably. "Is that where you lost them?"

"I thought we were doing that thing where we don't talk about what happened the night before."

"Doesn't it feel good, though?" John asked. He was facing Bro again, his hands out of his lap and pressed against the upholstery. "I mean, it hurts, it _hurts_ , but in a good way, right?"

His own hand gripped tightly into the seat it was pressed against. "That -- yeah, that's where it happened, John."

"It's not your fault, Dirk."

There it was again, his _name_. He wanted to ask John just how in the hell he knew his name, but his throat was dry; he couldn't speak, could barely swallow down the lump forming in his throat. More than ask about his name, a piece of him he wanted to tell John to fuck right off because he knew, _he knew_ that he was at least partly to blame for what had happened. But he couldn't form words.

Bro had one arm on the steering wheel; the other was draped across the space between himself and John. He felt a weight pressing into his fist and he looked down to see John's hand, gripping just as tightly at him as he was at the upholstery.

"John..."

"I'm -- I'm not hitting on you, it just...feels good to be comforted by someone else, doesn't it? Someone who doesn't expect anything from you? Someone who actually knows what you've been through?"

"How the fuck do you know what I've been through?" His words dripped with acid, they stung even to his own ears, but John just sat there, his hand still pressed into Bro's, unfazed by his words.

"I've been through a lot too, remember?"

"It's not the same, John." Bro wanted to pull his hand away but he _couldn't_ ; John's hand stung against his, but it was welcome pain. "You couldn't help what happened to you. _You_ were the victim."

"I could've hit him sooner," John said, still unperturbed. "I could've choked him in his sleep or called the police."

"That's not the same and you know it."

"But it is!" John's nails were digging into Bro's hand now. "It _is_ the same because if I blamed myself, then I would be blaming myself for someone else's actions!"

" _It is not the same fucking thing._ " John's hand flinched against his. He twisted his hand beneath John's grip, twining his fingers with John's and squeezing until his fingers changed color. He kept his eyes steady and focused on the road. "John, I'm sorry, but you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"You're right," John said. "It's not the same thing." He pulled his hand out of Bro's grip. "It's not the same because _I'm_ not letting myself be the victim."

Bro gritted his teeth but kept silent. He'd rather let John win then continue talking about this.

"I don't care, though," John said. "I don't care if you blame yourself. I want...to stay with you. If only to prove that you deserve to have someone with you. But mostly because I'm sick of being alone, too."

Bro didn't respond. What could he say to that? It was the first thing John had requested of him, and like hell was he about to say no. But he couldn't say yes either. So he kept his mouth shut, his shoulders taut, and eventually John turned away from him to stare out at the horizon.

They continued driving in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

A little after mid-day, they stopped in a small town to find a motel. Bro asked John to wait there, but John refused. Bro couldn't blame him; the prospect of being alone, even for such a short amount of time, didn't sound all that appealing to Bro anymore, either. So John sat awkwardly in the cab as Bro dropped his haul off, and afterwards he took John out for burgers.

It was dark when they found a motel to stay at. The only thing available was a one-bed room, which Bro apologized to John for, but John shrugged it off and said he didn't mind as long as Bro was comfortable with it. They sat in bed together a little later on, flipping through the channels for the noise. The evening's sitcoms turned into shitty late night talk shows and eventually John was asleep, having rolled onto his side away from Bro, clinging tightly to his bag. Bro rolled away from him and closed his eyes. It was a comfort just to have another person there, but John's presence was special. There was something about him, some familiarity there that soothed Bro. He couldn't point out what it was exactly, but he pondered on it as unconsciousness pulled him away from reality.

His dreams were the same at first, but then they changed -- it was still just memories, but different ones this time, happier ones -- and then John was there, but a different John, a younger, a less morose John. A John without as many scars as the one he knew carried.

That couldn't be possible, it must be a figment of his subconscious, because he didn't know John, had never met John until just the other day. But there he was, in his dreams, fooling around with his younger brother on a Skype call. That was it, that familiarity, wasn't it? John reminded him of a better time, a happier place of mind. John somehow held a piece of Bro's old life with him, but how could that be if they had never even met before? Why had his subconscious decided to pin this part of himself to John, making John necessary for Bro to even function? He _was_ necessary; he _needed_ John now. He couldn't possibly let John go. They were connected.

It was still dark when he woke up. John was sitting on his knees beside Bro, looking down at him. His skin crawled at the sight of John; he suddenly felt very aware of himself as his dreams came flooding back to him. He shuddered in an attempt to shake his thoughts away then addressed the look John gave him.

"What's wrong, John?" Bro asked.

"You said my name."

"Yeah, you told me your name a while ago, remember?"

"No," John shook his head, "my _full_ name. You were sleeping, but you said it."

"Your...full name?" Bro looked up at him and their eyes met. He stared for a full minute before recognition hit him.

He had met John before.

"Egbert," Bro said. "Your name is John Egbert." john nodded. His expression looked almost afraid now. "You knew my name; my real name. And that I lived in Texas. You knew because..."

"He was my best friend, Bro," John said, edging forward. "You keep saying that I don't know what you went through, but I _do_ know because I went through it too."

"John..." Bro couldn't say anything, could barely say John's name. He couldn't even maintain eye contact. His eyes drifted down, staring at John's palm in front of him, as the energy drained from his body and his mind went numb.

"I lost him too," John continued, "but we can't blame ourselves. He wouldn't want us to. You _know_ he wouldn't want us to." John's hand was cupping his cheek again, causing his skin to go ablaze beneath John's fingertips besides the absolute coldness of John's skin.

"I should have done something, I wasn't there for him --"

"Shh." John cut him off, placing a kiss on his forehead. "He's gone, Dirk, but I still need you. Can't you be there for me instead of beating yourself up over a ghost?"

Bro looked up at him, and John's eyes were running over his face, searching for something. He stayed silent while John's eyes wandered, but when they went still, he spoke. "I need you too, John. Don't leave me, please."

"I'm right here," John murmured, pressing a kiss against Bro's lips. Bro leaned into it, tugging John against him, and soon he had pulled the younger man onto his lap. "Sorry," John mumbled, "I broke my word."

"What word?"

"I said I wouldn't kiss you."

"John -- " Bro didn't get to finish his sentence because John had cut him off with another kiss. John was pressing down against him now, aiming for a reaction that he received; Bro bucked his hips up against him.

"Is this -- is this ok?" John asked between kisses.

Bro nodded. "I don't have anything though," he mumbled against John's ear.

John shook his head. "'Sok," he said, rolling his hips again. Bro's breath hitched and he lowered his hands to help John with his belt buckle. John moved his hands to work at the zipper of his own pants, and soon they were both naked from the waist-down.

They kissed as John worked his fingers inside of himself, and minutes later he was lowering himself onto Bro. Bro hissed as he did so, gripping into John's thighs, trying to get him to move slower.

"Sshh -- shit, John -- does that hurt?"

John nodded, his expression a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Yeah, 'sgood though. Does it hurt for you?"

"A little."

"I like the pain," John said, panting. "It reminds me that I'm alive." He leaned forward, running his hands through Bro's hair. "Being with you hurts too, but I like it." John raised his hips then lowered them slowly, eliciting a groan from Bro.

Bro grabbed at the back of John's hair, pressing their foreheads together. "I never wanna hurt you."

"Then hold me," John said, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Bro as he rocked back and forth against him. "Just hold me."

Bro gripped tightly around him, leaving marks on his skin with his fingers and teeth as he felt John doing the same to his skin. They rocked together in that small bed, clinging tightly to one another through pain and pleasure until they were lost to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't give a shit what two consenting adults do in their personal time, but for the love of god, please do not take sex advice from this fic. if you're gonna anal sex it up, i highly advise you invest in some god damn lube, or at least like spit on your hand or something dude c'mon now.


	7. Chapter 7

They checked out of the hotel the next morning. John waited in the cab as Bro turned the key to the room in. He watched as Bro climbed into the front seat, gripping loosely at his bag.

"We ready?" Bro asked.

"I wanted to show you something first," John said, pushing his bag between the two of them. Bro nodded and John unzipped his bag. He pulled out an old bunny that was falling apart at the seams, fluff falling out at random places. He held the tattered thing out to Bro, his eyes wide. "Dave gave this to me."

Bro's mouth went dry. His hand was shaking as he reached out to take it from John. He ran a hand over one of the ears as John continued to talk.

"I want you to have it, Dirk," he said.

"I can't," he said, wishing he had cleared his throat before he had spoken. "I can't take this from you."

"I want you to have it!"

Bro held the bunny out to John, grinning at his persistence. "How about we share it instead? But maybe we should keep it in your bag, just for safe-keeping."

John furrowed his brow and mulled over Bro's outstretched arm for a moment. "Alright, but just for safe-keeping." He wore the smallest of smiles as he tucked the bunny back into his bag. He reached inside again, and this time, he pulled out a folded-up cloth.

"What's in there?" Bro asked.

John watched Bro's reaction as he held the cloth out and unfolded it. He pulled the fabric back, revealing the hammer beneath. It was rusted over with blood.

"John...is that...?" He let the question slip away at the confirmation in John's eyes. "Put it back in your bag." He turned towards the steering wheel and started the ignition.

John chewed at his lip anxiously, but put the folded-up cloth back inside of his bag. "Bro, are you...are you mad at me?"

Bro turned to John and smiled. "Not at all. I just want to share somethin' with you now."

They pulled out of the parking lot and drove for a little over an hour. He wanted to watch John as they drove, but he had to keep his eyes on the road and John's face was turned towards the window. They reached a wooded area and drove through for a few miles before Bro pulled over on the side of the road.

"Let's go," he said to John. "And don't forget to bring your bag." John followed him out of the cab and past the railing, through the trees, until they came to a small lake. "This is it," Bro said, holding his arm out and gesturing towards the water. "This is what I wanted to show you."

"Oh." John looked out towards the water, squinting his eyes, then looked back at Bro. "Why?"

"Can I see your bag?" He asked. John watched his face, unsure for a few moments, before reaching behind him to pull his bag off.

"Um...Ok." He handed the bag to Bro, and Bro unzipped it, digging inside until he pulled out the cloth. He handed the hammer to John.

"I want you to throw this into the lake," Bro said.

"...Why?"

"Why did you keep it?"

John looked away, down at the hammer. "I don't know."

"John." Bro tucked his finger beneath John's chin, pulling John's face up to meet his gaze. "You don't have to be afraid of him anymore. Let him go. We have each other, right?"

John sucked in a breath and a look of fortitude washed over his face. He nodded his head before turning towards the lake, pulling his arm back, and chucking the object out towards the water. His eyes grew wider as the hammer sunk to the bottom of the lake.

"I can't believe I did that," he whispered.

"I can," Bro said, snaking an arm around John's waist and pulling them closer together, "and I'm proud"

John turned around in Bro's arms, pressing his palms flat against Bro's chest. "Can I tell you something else?" He asked.

"Anything."

"I slashed your tires."

"You...what?"

"Before you picked me up," John said, shifting his weight between his feet, "you were changing a tire, and...that was my fault. I wanted to make sure you stopped and saw me."

Bro's face twisted. "You couldn't have just...asked me for a ride when you saw me?" John buried his face in Bro's chest and shrugged. "Well...if that's what it took to bring us together, then...I'm glad it happened. Just don't make that kinda thing a habit, alright?" John nodded against him. "Can I ask you something now?"

John pulled his face away. "What is it?"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me? You obviously recognized me instantly, so why didn't you say somethin'?"

"I was...afraid," John answered, bowing his head and looking down. "I wasn't one hundred percent sure at first, but after that, I was just...afraid. Afraid that you would push me away, or...I don't know. Maybe I was just afraid of bringing up my own old wounds."

"It doesn't matter now, anyway," Bro said. He leaned down to kiss John once, slowly, before pulling away again. "You wanna get outta here now?"

"Actually, can we stay for awhile?" John asked. "I kind of like it here."

"Sure," Bro said. He untangled himself from John, all but their hands, which still hung together loosely. John wore a small smile and Bro thought It looked beautiful on him. Bro couldn't help but smile back. His life was certainly far from perfect, but now he had someone who understood exactly what it was he was going through.

Now he had John.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and i hope you don't hate the ending
> 
> ok thanks come say hi on [the tumblr](http://adrearn.tumblr.com/)

When John turned eighteen, they went back to Texas together. The apartment was still there, under Bro's name; he could never bear to get rid of it. Together, they went through Dave's room. It took a long time, but they managed to find a place in the home they made together for most of his belongings. What they couldn't find a place for went into the storage facility that came with the apartment.

Bro introduced John to Lil Cal. John was unimpressed.

By the fall, John had gotten his GED and with Bro's help, a part-time job. He was saving up to go to school.

Every day in that apartment came with a little pain; some days more than others, but that's what John was there for. John was constantly reassuring him, encouraging him, and making him smile. The more time he spent with John, the more he realized what an asinine sense of humor the kid had. But he loved it. To him, it was perfect, it was exactly what he needed, exactly what he wanted. When he was with John, everything was brighter and easier. When he was with John, he couldn't help but smile.

He couldn't help but smile because he wasn't alone anymore.


End file.
